


Blacktop & Blue Skies {Hiatus}

by theorchardofbones



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Everybody Lives, Gen, Kingsglaive: Final Fantasy XV (2016), Roadtrip, background Lunyx
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-10 15:32:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12914841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theorchardofbones/pseuds/theorchardofbones
Summary: They're calling it the wedding of the century — a whirlwind romance between the Oracle Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, and a former member of the Lucian Kingsglaive.Before Nyx Ulric can tie the knot with the love of his life, however, his three closest friends have to get him there.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This AU popped into my head on a whim; it seemed like the perfect fit for [Glaive Week 2017](https://glaiveweek.tumblr.com)! This is a loose fill for the day 1 prompt, 'origins/background'.

There’s a thick patch of stubble across Nyx’s jaw when he looks at himself in the mirror. Bags under his eyes. A little scar on his cheek and one on his forehead, almost too faint to be seen, but still there.

There are the tattoos, too — a token from his homeland. Those he’s proud of, although he brushes his fingertips over them just the same, as though appraising their place on his skin.

Thirty-four years old. Thirty-four, and he thinks he doesn’t look  _ so _ bad. His hair is all still there, thick and dark, sides buzzed into the Galahdian style. He doesn’t even have that empty look he’s seen in the eyes of some of the older Glaives, after they’ve lost themselves in their work.

He’s never thought critically of his appearance; never cared much before joining the Kingsglaive, never had much time for it after. He can see himself now, however, as others see him. As Lunafreya will see him, on their wedding day.

_ Lunafreya. _

When others hear the name, they picture the Oracle: the sweet, well-spoken young woman, wise beyond her years, who fought back the daemon plague with the future king of Lucis at her side. The woman who almost died for her cause, and would have done so happily.

Nyx? Nyx just sees Luna: sharp tongue and sharper wit, never given to compromising herself to please people. The woman who bargained with the Lucii in his stead, and probably saved his life for it; the woman who amazed him every single day of the war with her resilience, with her strength.

The woman he loves.

The woman he’s going to marry in three weeks.

He never could understand pre-wedding jitters — couldn’t comprehend how somebody could be  _ nervous _ about marrying the love of their life. He gets it now, though, and it’s a fluttering in his stomach: a warmth in his chest.

He’s nervous, yes, but more than that he’s  _ excited.  _ He gets to marry the woman of his dreams.

He gives himself one last look in the mirror, sighs, and puts his back to it. It’s time to get ready.

* * *

They’re all waiting for him when he leaves his apartment, leaning against Lib’s car and chattering away amongst themselves. They haven’t seen him yet; for a little while he just stands in his doorway and watches them, smiling to himself.

He’s going to miss this.

Libertus spots him first, of course, as Nyx had known he would. They’ve always been like that — in tune with each other.

‘Hey!’ Libertus shouts, in that bellowing voice of his. ‘It’s the groom!’

All at once, the three of them drop into bows so synchronised that it’s almost comical: Crowe, with a sardonic little smirk; Pelna, the most formal of the bunch; Libertus, the most sincere.

‘You ready?’ Crowe says, as she rises.

Nyx nods.

‘More than you know.’

* * *

When he told the four of them — about him and Luna, that is — they’d all been in the ruins of their old haunt, clearing away the rubble. The owner had been among the casualties, and the food stand would probably never return, but it had felt right somehow to pay their own little tribute to the spot where they had shared so many moments, drinking well into the night.

It hadn’t come as much of a surprise, he knows, but there had been something of a stunned silence after he had said the words, before the all swarmed to hug him or clap him on the back.

It had been inevitable, really, that they would start going their separate ways. Even though King Noctis had reformed the Kingsglaive, so many of its numbers had been slaughtered that it didn’t feel the same. An army in name only: a token of the old kingdom.

Nyx hadn’t expected to be the first.

Libertus is at the wheel, his hair rustling in the breeze that sweeps through the open window. Every now and then, in the middle of chiming in with contrary but good-humoured responses to Crowe’s rant about the quality of the roads leaving Insomnia, he looks up into the rearview mirror and catches Nyx’s eye.

There had been a time when they had never thought marriage would be on the cards for either of them — a time when they had staked their lives for their homeland, so sure that they would die before they ever saw their country free again.

It seems odd to Nyx, when he thinks about it: that of all of them, he should be the one to get married. After Selena died, it had felt as if his life had just…  _ stopped. _ He had thrown himself into fighting for the Glaives, and he had wound up one of Drautos’s most respected men, but that hadn’t been  _ living. _

Libertus? He has been so busy pining after Crowe, and everybody knows that's never going to happen. Crowe herself has no interest in anything serious. Pelna, meanwhile — well, Nyx never knows what’s going on with Pel, but he seemed happy, last Nyx checked.

Nyx tips his head back against his seat and glances out the window, watching the landscape roll by. It’s easy to forget Insomnia is bounded by desert, verdant as it is within the confines of the walls. No man-made reservoirs here, no carefully cultivated forest parks — just red, dusty plains and hills in the distance, and skies as far as the eye can see.

There’s a gentle nudge at his leg; he looks over at Pelna and finds him watching, his brow furrowed a little.

‘You all right, man?’ Pel says. ‘Anything on your mind?’

Nyx shakes his head.

There was a time when he would’ve, regardless, and kept whatever burden was weighing him down to himself. The Glaive brought them all together, but it was everything that happened after — almost dying, almost losing each other, and trying to make a home again in the ruins of the Crown City — that really changed them. That made them closer than friends; that made them family.

‘Just thinking,’ Nyx says, turning his glance back out toward the view. ‘Guess I never thought I’d see this day.’

There’s a sigh from Pelna, and the pleather creaks a little as he stretches out his legs in what little room is afforded behind Lib’s seat.

‘I hear you,’ Pelna says. ‘Still weird to think we could have actual  _ lives _ now. Get married. Have  _ kids. _ ’

Nyx snorts and shoots his friend a glance. Yeah, he and Luna have talked about it — but that’s still years away. Any kids they should happen to spawn would become princes or princesses, would likely carry on the title of Oracle even if it’s something of an empty moniker, now that the Starscourge is gone.

‘Don’t get ahead of yourself,’ he says wryly. ‘Gotta get to Tenebrae first.’

There’s a flash of straight, white teeth from Pelna as he grins, but it slips a little as he looks away, taking up a silent stare out of the window.

* * *

It had been Lib’s idea: why take a royal craft to Tenebrae, when they could set out on one last roadtrip together? 

The irony isn’t lost on Nyx; he can’t help but think of the young prince — no,  _ king _ — undertaking this journey two years ago, setting out to marry the very same woman to whom Nyx is engaged.

Hammerhead is first, which is timely — the car’s already almost out of gas.

‘Told you we couldn’t trust this old thing,’ Crowe says, slapping a hand down on the dashboard ahead of her. ‘What a gas guzzler.’

Nyx can see Libertus’s face contort in his reflection in the rearview mirror.

‘Oh, what,’ he retorts, ‘and your bike is so much more  _ economical? _ ’

‘No,’ Crowe says darkly, leaning towards Libertus. ‘But we’d probably be making better time  _ walking _ at this rate, with your driving.’

Nyx knows there’s nothing hostile about it, but long journeys have a tendency to turn sarcastic jabs into outright strife. He sets his hands down on the back of Crowe’s seat, fingers on her shoulders, and leans in between them.

‘Not that I don’t love to see you two hens bickering,’ he says, ‘but we’ve been on the road for literally three hours. Can we maybe leave the insults until tomorrow?’

‘Fine,’ Crowe mutters.

Nyx is ninety-percent sure she’s rolling her eyes.

They get out and stretch their legs while Libertus fills the tank. Pelna wanders off in search of food — he always seems to be eating, or talking about eating, yet he’s the skinniest and lankiest of the bunch.

‘Wanna hit up the mart?’ Crowe suggests, with a nod toward the general store.

Nyx shrugs, his eyes on the auto shop. He scans the place for a telltale flash of yellow leather and blonde curls, but he doesn’t see anything.

‘Thought I’d drop in on Cindy,’ he says. ‘Been long enough.’

‘Mind if I come with?’ Crowe says.

‘You sure that’s such a good idea?’ he replies. ‘Can’t have you sweeping Eos’s best mechanic off her feet when we’re here to get  _ me _ to my wedding day.’

She makes a face at him, but there’s a glint in her eye.

They both have their own stories to tell of Cindy — of the car she entrusted to Nyx and Luna while they fled Insomnia; of how she thwarted the ambush set to intercept Crowe on the road. He’s more than a little thankful for all she’s done.

Cid is sitting outside, as always. Nyx knows damn well those legs are still good, and if it weren’t for his granddaughter he’d probably still be puttering around the garage to this day, getting up to no good.

The old man tips the brim of his hat a little, peering at them as the approach. Nyx isn’t even sure he’ll recognise them, but then he leaps up from his seat and waves them over.

As soon as they’re within range, Nyx hears a woman’s voice floating out from within the garage popular.

‘You better be in that chair o’ yours, Paw-Paw,’ she says. ‘Don’t  _ make _ me come out there.’

Nyx and Crowe exchange glances; Crowe smirks and marches on ahead, toward the open door of the auto shop.

‘Better do what she tells me,’ Cid says, dropping his voice conspiratorially. ‘Before she tans my hide.’

‘She’s a firecracker, all right,’ Nyx replies, sidling up to the old man. ‘How you been, Cid?’

Cid gives a shrug. Turns his face toward the sun, crinkled eyes closing against the warmth of it.

‘Same old same old,’ he says. ‘Heard yer gettin’ hitched. Wedding of the century.’

Nyx stifles a groan. Of course they’ve been calling it that — the papers love a good romance.

‘Yeah, he replies. ‘Three weeks.’

‘I wish you luck,’ Cid says, turning to him with a knowing look. ‘Enjoy your freedom while you can, kid.’

Nyx gives him a look.

‘Why do people keep saying that?’

He never gets an answer; Crowe steps out and beckons him over, and he hears Cindy’s drawl drift out of the auto shop once more.

‘I hope that fella doesn’t think he can’t get away without paying me a visit,’ she says.

She’s elbow-deep in the inner workings of a truck when he steps into the forecourt; she waves one oil-stained hand at him and ushers him hurriedly over.

‘Y’know, I knew it,’ she says. ‘Could see it in your eyes, the way you looked at Lady Lunafreya. Bet you never thought you’d wind up on these same roads again, marryin’ her this time.’

Nyx feels too transparent under Cindy’s glance — he hasn’t forgotten how close he had been with the Oracle even then, when she was still bound for her wedding day with the crown prince of Lucis. It had been a daydream at the time; a fleeting thought.

‘I still owe you for that car,’ he says, rasping his fingertips over the shaved side of his head.

‘Trust me,’ Cindy says. At this, she leans across the engine block of the car and looks at him levelly, green eyes keen. ‘I never forget.’

He gets that impending feeling of doom — that sense that this is a debt he’ll probably be paying off for the rest of his life. Maybe she’ll go easy on him once Luna’s in the picture.

‘Don’t forget where you came from, y’hear?’ the mechanic says, suddenly all warm smiles and freckles. ‘Tenebrae’s a long way away, but not too far to pick up the phone. All right?’

Nyx nods, resolute.

‘All right.’

Pelna’s already staked out a spot in the corner of the diner, his portion of the table covered in plates and baskets of food. Nyx’s stomach gives a pang of hunger at the smell of it all, and he ventures over and swipes a handful of fries out from in front of Pelna.

‘Get your own,’ Pel says, indignant.

Leaning over the back of the seat behind him, Crowe reaches across and grabs some for herself.

‘You snooze, you lose,’ she says, grinning into Pel’s face.

Nyx makes it up to the counter before he realises Libertus has fallen in beside him. With a sideways glance at his friend, he slips onto a stool to wait.

‘You nervous?’ Libertus asks.

‘A little,’ Nyx says, with a shrug. ‘The wedding, married life — I can deal with that. It’s the not-being-a-Glaive part I’m not so sure about.’

‘Haven’t been a Glaive in a long while, Nyx,’ Libertus replies, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

‘Not what I mean,’ Nyx says. He sighs and shakes his head. ‘I don’t know.’

He looks over at the other two, Crowe still pestering Pelna for food and Pel acting like he hates it, even though he has the biggest grin on his face. They may have left the Kingsglaive, but that doesn’t mean they stopped being Glaives.

‘You’re still our brother,’ Lib says, resting an elbow on Nyx’s shoulder. ‘Whether you’re in Insomnia, or off in marital bliss with your wife-to-be. You hear me?’

Nyx is silent awhile as he watches the others. Crowe has perched herself up right beside Pelna, and he has his arm across the back of the seat behind her.

He feels sometimes like they’re slipping away from him, the closer he gets to his life with Luna — but that’s not true. They’re still there; they always have been.

‘Yeah,’ he murmurs. ‘I hear you.’


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picking this back up for day 4 of [Glaive Week 2017](https://glaiveweek.tumblr.com/), for the prompt 'bar fights/drunken shenanigans'.

It starts with a kiss.

But — no. That’s not right. What it  _ really _ starts with is Lib’s snoring. 

Nyx had a bad enough sleep as it was, huddled up in the corner in his sleeping bag and trying, in vain, to avoid the rocks poking up through the base of the tent. To be kept up by somebody snoring, in those rare moments where his body had  _ almost  _ been comfortable enough for him to find sleep? That was hell. A hell which Nyx is currently residing in once more.

The three of them are lying there, very much awake at dawn, and the sawing-through-wood, rumble-of-a-badly-tuned-engine sound of Libertus’s snoring still fills the tent, an unwelcome addition to the morning’s chorus of birdsong.

Nyx is pretty sure he’s going to kill Libertus.

Crowe gets there first, with a snarl of frustration and a boot thrown across the tent. There’s a dull thud of impact and the snoring mercifully cuts off as Libertus sits upright with a disgruntled ‘Hey!’

Crowe rolls over, where she lies between Nyx and Pelna, and Nyx sees her close her eyes and snuggle down into her sleeping bag as if it were a bed in the Leville.

At least  _ she’ll _ get some sleep.

Nyx is too awake now, though, and the faint light bleeding through the walls of the tent is enough to seal the deal. They can catch up on sleep in a motel tonight — in separate rooms.

He sighs and unzips his sleeping bag, peeling himself out of it. When he’s just about ready to face the early-morning chill, he opens the flap of the tent and steps out.

At least it’s beautiful out here, as the sun’s first light touches the sky and turns it myriad shades of pink and blue. At least he doesn’t have the noise of traffic outside his window as he takes himself through his morning drills, stretching his limbs in a bid to warm them.

He’s glad for the peace — glad to be alone, for just a little while.

He gets about halfway through his routine before he hears the zip of the tent open quietly behind him. After that, Pelna joins him and works alongside him in silence.

It’s the same old drills from back in the Kingsglaive: a combination of slow, measured movements and lethal strikes. They both fall into the rhythm of it so easily, as if it were only yesterday that Drautos stood barking out commands to them in the Glaive training grounds.

They don’t spar — haven’t, in a long time. Nyx isn’t so sure he could put himself back in that place again.

Crowe still isn’t up by the time they’re finished; Lib’s snoring again, the obnoxious sound echoing through the open air.

‘You ever wonder if things’d be different?’ Pelna asks, as they drink coffee around the fire. It’s the first thing either of them have said all morning. ‘If you and Luna hadn’t found each other in Insomnia?’

Nyx is silent as he stares into the crackling flames in front of him, watching them dance. It’s not like it isn’t anything he’s thought about before, but it’s always been in abstract  _ what-if _ s. Truth is, he can’t imagine how things might have gone down — can get as far as the  _ what if I had _ or  _ what if Luna hadn’t _ , but his brain won’t let him get any further than that.

He knows this much, at least: he’d probably be dead.

‘Wouldn’t be getting married,’ he says, with a gruff laugh.

His voice doesn’t sound like his own.

Pelna gives him a pointed look, but he lets it drop.

‘She’s something, huh?’ he says.

Nyx watches him brush a hand through the short, dark hair where it curls against the nape of his neck. There’s heat to his skin, a tinge of pink creeping up from his collar.

‘Luna?’ Nyx says, with one eyebrow raised.

Pelna chuckles softly, and the red only seems to creep further.

‘No, uh,’ he says.

He’s looking down at the mug of coffee in his hand; he gets up suddenly, draining the last of it and setting it down by the fire.

‘Gonna go for a run,’ Pelna says. ‘Be back before they’re awake.’

Normally, Nyx would invite himself along; morning runs help clear his head, and they were a staple of many of the Glaives’ routines.

Something tells him Pelna wants to take this one alone.

* * *

The bar is dank and dark, poorly lit by bulbs flickering overhead. It’s exactly the sort of place they whiled away many an evening together, all three of them, while on deployment. To Nyx, it’s a little slice of paradise — If you can ignore the stench of stale beer and piss.

And the beer isn’t even half bad, he finds, once he’s on his third one, and they’re comfortably situated around a table far enough from the other patrons that their laughter and bawdy talk doesn’t bother the locals quite so much.

‘Seriously, though,’ Crowe’s saying, her voice just a  _ little _ too much on the loud side. ‘Monica and Cor? Totally banging.’

Libertus bursts out with a raucous laugh of disbelief, and the echo of it seems to ring through the bar long after the sound has died down. 

‘Cor?’ Libertus says, with an almost comical look of bemusement etched across his face. ‘I thought he had a thing for Gladiolus.’

Crowe almost spits her drink out as a choked laugh bubbles from her throat.

‘Ew!’ she blurts. ‘He’s like twice Gladio’s age. No way.’

Pelna is mysteriously quiet, and Nyx has a feeling he knows why, but he keeps his lips sealed. What happened in Insomnia, before all of this — that’s in the past now.

‘I heard Cor took a vow of celibacy,’ Nyx says sagely. ‘After his trial with Gilgamesh.’

Crowe and Libertus look at him with almost identical looks of disbelief, further driving home just how alike they can be, for all their arguing.

So maybe it’s a bit of a tall tale — he knows as little as anybody else about the Marshal’s personal life, but the rumour that Cor had chosen to live celibate had been a funny one. Funnier than the one where Gilgamesh took his manhood in exchange for the arm Cor cleaved from his left side, at least.

‘I mean,’ Crowe says, turning the palm of her free hand upwards and lifting her shoulders in a shrug. ‘He  _ is _ pretty uptight. Nobody’s that uptight if they’re getting laid.’

‘So what was Drautos’s excuse?’ Libertus counters.

Nyx can tell it’s meant in good humour, but even Libertus seems to realise his error when his face blanches.

They just don’t talk about Drautos — about the other traitors. Libertus might have played his own part in how everything went down but… he’s Lib. He’s proved his loyalties, time and again.

With a scowl, Crowe spits on the floor.

It’s a shame to have spoiled their good mood. Nyx decides to restore it the best way he knows how: more drinks.

He claps a hand down on Lib’s shoulder and uses it to push himself up as he heads for the bar. The other patrons glance up at him as he goes, their glares as dirty as the glasses they sip from.

Crowe joins him at the bar to help with the drinks. She’s in flat shoes today so she seems small and harmless amid all the burly, pissed-looking dudes dotted around the place getting shit-faced. Nyx knows better.

‘Can I ask you something?’ she says, while they wait for the bartender to bother to come their way.

Nyx shrugs.

‘Since when have you needed my permission?’

Crowe gives a weary roll of her eyes and when she opens her mouth, he expects snark — instead she takes on a serious look as she sidles up closer to him.

‘Pel. He seeing anybody back home?’

Nyx feels his eyebrow pop of its own accord. He knows for a fact that this is something he picked up from one of the Glaives over the years, but he can’t for the life of him remember  _ who. _

‘You want the number of his shrink, you gotta ask him,’ Nyx retorts.

Irritation flashes across Crowe’s face and yeah, maybe he’s pushing her buttons, but it’s fun. This is how they do things, the four of them, unless it’s serious. He’s starting to think maybe it’s serious.

‘You  _ know _ what I mean,’ she says darkly.

He does.

‘I don’t know,’ he says, with a roll of his shoulders. ‘I guess there was somebody, back before the Fall. I don’t think it lasted.’

Crowe nods slowly, thoughtfully.

‘All right,’ she says. ‘Thanks.’

She turns to go before he can question her; when he calls out to ask if she’s going to help grab the drinks, she just keeps on walking.

* * *

They’re messy drunk now, the bunch of them, and he’s huddled over a murky mug of beer wondering how pathetic it would be if he called Luna just to hear her voice.

‘Where’s the drinks,’ Libertus slurs, thumping his fist down on the table. ‘They said there’d be more drinks.’

That’s right. The others headed up to the bar to get the next round probably — Nyx unpockets his phone and squints at the screen — forty minutes ago. Shitty as the service in this place might be, it’s not  _ that _ bad.

He attempts to stuff his phone into his pocket, missing entirely the first time. When he looks up, Lib’s staring past him, his face beet red.

‘Uh,’ Nyx says, just as Libertus shoves his chair back and marches across the room.

Nyx twists in his seat to look around behind him. Libertus’s broad figure blocks his view, his purposeful strides belying how drunk he is, but suddenly he’s not in the way any more and Nyx can see what the problem is.

Crowe and Pelna are at the bar, drinks sitting idly beside them, and — well, they’re not talking. Nyx weaves a little where he sits as he tries to lean closer, unable to quite believe his eyes.

Pelna has his hand on Crowe’s waist, and hers is in his hair, fingers threaded through the strands. They seem to be getting pretty well acquainted with one another.

So the  _ day _ started with Lib’s snoring, but when Nyx really thinks about it, it’s the  _ fight _ that starts with a kiss.

It’s a little like watching the whole thing in slow motion, unable to look away but powerless to intervene. First Libertus taps Pelna on the shoulder, then Pelna looks up in surprise. There’s a moment — blink and you’ll miss it — where fear registers on his face, before Libertus takes a swing at him.

The second Lib’s fist connects, Nyx is on his feet, suddenly feeling far more sober than he really is.

To the credit of everybody else in the bar, they don’t seem to find anything unusual about two grown men engaging in fisticuffs — and  _ Gods, _ the word’s old-fashioned but it sure does have a ring to it. It’s only when Pelna recovers, hops down from his seat and pops Libertus with a much more trained punch, sending Libertus toppling backwards and into one of the guys at the bar, that it becomes a problem.

Nyx can’t get there fast enough as he moves to separate his friends, and it’s only once somebody grabs him by the arm and tries and  _ fails _ to land a punch in his ribs that he realises this isn’t Libertus-versus-Pelna, this is all of them versus the whole damn bar.

Now, Nyx has been in many a fight in many a shitty establishment just like this one. He tends to pride himself on keeping a pretty cool head, but there are a few things that get his blood up.

The first is somebody going after his friends, which — okay, it’s kind of their fault this time, so he can let it slide when he sees somebody shove Pelna, setting him stumbling.

The second is when somebody resorts to a bitch move.

The fist that just collided with the back of Nyx’s head?  _ That’s _ a bitch move.

He twirls, not even looking at his would-be attacker as he throws his elbow out towards them; he feels it connect with their jaw, and it smarts like hell but it’s sure as hell worth it when he watches the guy buckle to the side.

He won’t try  _ that _ again.

Libertus is holding his own; the dude he got thrown into apparently decided that taking on somebody of his considerable heft was a good idea, and while Lib’s form might not be the best, the force behind the punch is enough to set blood spurting from his new friend’s nose.

‘Get outta here while you still can, lady,’ Nyx hears somebody bellow.

He snaps his head around to see some drunk asshole grabbing onto Crowe’s wrist. He has just enough time to revise his impression of the guy as  _ some drunk asshole with a death wish _ before Crowe twists, wrenching the guy’s arm at an unnatural angle.

‘Don’t,’ Crowe snarls, right by the dude’s ear. ‘Touch. Me.’

She punctuates each word by yanking his arm up a little higher until it seems like it might pop out of his shoulder, but then she lets go of him, plants her foot on his hip and kicks him away.

Another punch lands on the back of Nyx’s head, taking advantage of his distraction, and when he turns around, he sees with supreme disbelief that it’s the same jackass as before.

‘You don’t learn, do you?’ he says, looking the guy right in the eye before popping him straight in the mouth.

The bar is in chaos, bodies seemingly converging on their location. All they can do is fight their way through it, the thrill of the fight singing in their veins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [main tumblr](http://theorchardofbones.tumblr.com) | [ffxv sideblog](http://harshmallowffxv.tumblr.com) | [twitter](http://twitter.com/ghostmallovv)

**Author's Note:**

> [main tumblr](http://theorchardofbones.tumblr.com) | [ffxv sideblog](http://harshmallowffxv.tumblr.com) | [twitter](http://twitter.com/ghostmallovv)


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